C6 Chapter 6

Morahan, the Irishman, was in Norway. He had booked a room in a cheap hotel because his luggage wasn’t so impressive.

The flight had been more strenuous than he had reckoned on. Now he lay on his bed; he couldn’t be bothered to do anything beyond kicking off his shoes. He had no energy left.

Am I really in such poor health? he wondered as he listened to his troubled breathing. Somehow, he wasn’t able to breathe properly anymore, he couldn’t get air right down into his lungs. As if he could only breathe with the upper part of his lungs. “If only one lung had been diseased,” the doctor had said. “Then we might consider operating on you. But both ...? No! Besides, several other organs are affected.”

As Ian Morahan lay there in a foreign country, without knowing a soul, he felt very anxious; he realized how lonely he really was. Not only here in Norway. What did he have back home in England? Some colleagues to have a beer and watch TV with. The few girlfriends he had had were long gone, and none of the girls had been of the type that he would have wanted to keep as friends. His siblings didn't keep in touch with him.

Who would grieve over him? Good God: who would grieve over him?

He was a Catholic, like most people in Ireland. But it couldn’t be said that he had practised any religion in the last fifteen years. Now he sought a god but found none.

Religion isn’t to be a baby soother you turn to when you’re scared of death.

His desperate search for something to hold onto only underscored how lonely he was. But now, his situation was exceptional.

What was he doing in this country? So far, all he had seen was snow-clad mountains and deserted valleys, when he had been able to see down between the masses of clouds that covered the country. And Oslo? Cold, grumpy and inhospitable. Spring hadn’t yet arrived, and it had begun a month ago in England. Oslo was a dark-grey city, but he was used to that from Dublin and Liverpool.

His mother’s family lived in Nordland. So he had been told in the taxi from Fornebu, when he had asked for Sandnessjöen. It was very beautiful there (that was what the native of Oslo had said: he considered everything north of Trondheim to be an absolute wilderness). An industrial town with an archipelago.

Industrial town? As if he wasn’t used to that. It wasn’t what he had come to Norway to see. His mother had spoken of the beautiful countryside, how clean everything was ... Although, of course, it was a long time since she had been there. Industries tended to spread like algae in a lake.

He had found out that it was a long way to Sandnessjöen. Right now, a new journey seemed an overwhelming burden. He just wanted to sleep. Rest and find peace for his pain, which had increased alarmingly in recent days.

He felt an urge to write to somebody about his journey. About his troubles, his horror and his loneliness.

He didn’t know anybody he could write to. What have you actually done in your life, Ian Morahan?

He had always been a lone wolf and had been quite happy that way. He hadn’t thought very hard about it. But now he realized that human beings are more social animals than he had thought.

A shiver of nausea went through him. He was so tired ...

In his extremely involuntary captivity in a cave in the Harz forest, Tengel the Evil’s horrible face was almost serene.

He was pretty sure that something had happened.

No wonder he had felt so impatient in recent days. It had nothing to do with those damn Ice People. No, the reason why he had sought them precisely now was quite different.

Somebody had tried to play his tune again! This time on a flute, not a stupid bagpipe or whatever it was the last time.

More than twenty years ago ...

How long did he have to wait?

Now – now it might be about to happen.

He had been disappointed so many times before. Cheated. Cheated by stupid human beings, and most of all by these ... Oh, his descendants made him so furious that despair threatened to throttle him!

To be blackmailed and let down by his own, those he had counted on. Those he had sold to evil so that he could gain power, wealth, honour and perpetual life. Could they begrudge him that?

If what he had vaguely suspected in recent days was true – that somebody might be able to play his wake-up signal, then he would definitely seek revenge! He would kill every single disloyal person responsible. That was to be the very first thing he would do. Because he couldn’t obtain peace in his global realm until they were wiped off the surface of the earth.

No, more than that! He knew perfectly well that it wouldn’t make any difference to have them, these false stricken members, interred. They persecuted him even more after death, they should have been his loyal tools now. He knew them all – almost. The worst members were Targenor, his own son, and Targenor’s rude mother, Dida. There were several more: Tengel the Good, who had tried systematically to break his curse. And Sol, the witch, who had promised ...

Trond was another defector, somebody that he had almost had in his power but who had slipped out of his hands because he was killed before he had truly understood that he belonged with Tan-ghil.

Ulvhedin. Tula ... Good grief! What became of her? Mar! Tengel the Evil had been absolutely certain about him. Then this ... this ... no, he couldn’t be bothered to even pronounce the name. She had seduced his most loyal vassal, Mar. Not to mention all the other things she had done.

Each time Tengel thought of Shira it made him feel sick, and justly so. He was terribly frightened of her.

She was merely a spirit. She couldn’t reach him on her own, she would have to operate through a living human being. And he was jolly well going to kill them all!

He continued his bitter thoughts of his damned descendants.

Heike could have become something great, but he was already cowardly during his childhood. He had chosen goodness instead.

Tengel the Evil got a horrible taste in his mouth at the thought.

Those who were supposed to have been his slaves were many and they had turned their backs on him quite cheerfully: Sigleik, Jahas and Estrid (the stupid clowns), Ingrid ... and then a crowd of twits in faraway Taran-gai. They weren’t worth worrying about.

No, matters were much worse with those that were still alive. Not the tedious normal ones, and not that old scarecrow, Benedikte, either.

But the three others ...

Tengel the Evil breathed so heavily that a thick layer of stinking dust steamed up from his cloak over his chest, spreading itself through the ravine. A jay fell to the ground, dead, and flakes of bark loosened from the pine trunks.

The three others ...

The Ice People had succeeded in hiding them from him. He had almost got hold of one of them. She was the one they called Tova, but she was saved at the very last minute. At first, she had sided with him. Later, they had managed to drum into her a lot of piss and shit, and so she defected, damn it! Silly old cow!

Tan-ghil had never been a cultivated man. His language left a lot to be desired.

There were another two ...

One of them was somebody they focused everything on. What fools, who did they think they were? He had been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him once. Now he knew who that bastard was: Nataniel.

Harmless! Such a coward that he didn’t even dare to show himself openly.

Tengel shuddered violently. The other one ... the other one was much, much worse. But Tengel knew nothing about him, which annoyed him terribly, only that he was a man, perhaps two or three, which wasn’t at all clear to him. No, he must hope it was only one person.

This opponent had managed to hide himself so well that Tengel the Evil only suspected his existence. Once, when Tengel the Evil had seen Tova and Nataniel for a second in the fog over Japan, he had sensed that an additional person was nearby. He had discerned something unclearly, far, far inside the clouds of mist. But he hadn’t caught sight of him, and had no idea who or what he was.

He couldn’t just be one single person, there must be several. No human being could live for a hundred years and clearly be just as alert all the time. There had to be several. A son or grandson, perhaps?

Anyway, this opponent was dangerous. Time and again in the past century, he had stood in the way of Tengel. Ruined what he thought couldn’t be destroyed. Like Nertus-Tyr, the best ally Tengel could have had. Or ... oh, God forbid, Heydrich, in whom Tengel the Evil had hidden himself! Not even then had he succeeded in catching a glimpse of the unknown opponent, but there was no doubt that the man was there.

Tan-ghil could have gritted his teeth in despair and fury, but his teeth weren’t in very good shape, to say the least. His mouth was now more like a beak. Actually, like nothing on earth.

All other creatures had fled the ravine where his cave was situated. All their instincts told them that something very dangerous was taking place.

In order to relieve his fury, Tengel began to divert his chain of thoughts to something more pleasant.

He thought of all his helpers.

He laughed wickedly to himself. They really ought to know what he had in the way of assistance. The poor, lonely members of the Ice People could stand there with their handful of ancestors. He, Tengel the Evil, had so much more!

Above all, he had his own, the truly loyal among his stricken ancestors. They were quite a crowd!

Beginning with those he really didn’t care for, the Taran-gai, there were some truly fine people among them. There really were!

Take, for instance, his own son, Winter Sorrow – what a ridiculous, soft name for such a fantastic, strong, strapping man. Winter Sorrow was quite handsome (after all, he was Tan-ghil’s son, wasn’t he?) But beneath his good looks was a soul that Tan-ghil truly valued. Just imagine stealing other men’s wives, abusing them and subsequently sacrificing them to the moon – now that was a really worthy son! What a lot Tan-ghil had got to know about the Taran-gai. Winter Sorrow had been his most brilliant source of knowledge there. Tengel would have great use of him when the hour of victory came.

Then there were Kat and Kat-ghil. They were connected with Shama’s spirits, the ones that had to do with evil, sudden death and lost hopes. Kat and Kat-ghil knew a lot of very fine troll-songs, so Tengel would certainly use these two to crush the Ice People.

Then he had Terror, who sacrificed small children to his secret gods and spirits. He was a good man! Finally, there was the Evil Eye, perhaps the meanest of them all from Taran-gai. Oh, and then there was, of course, Mar, but that knave had abandoned his task for the sake of a girl ... No, don’t think of her, now you must think pleasant thoughts, Tan-ghil!

He had many fine helpers in Norway. Sensible people, who knew what was best for them. Ghil the Cruel, for instance. Like all dead allies, he rested in cruelty. He would appear on Tengel the Evil’s own, private doomsday.

He croaked delightedly at the thought.

Then there was Olaves Krestiernsson. Now, that was a man that he liked! He would choose him as one of the very first to crush the members of the Ice People that sided with the wrong side. Then there were some women: Guro and Ingegjerd – well, er, they were all right. Loyal and mean but not particularly interesting.

Oh, Halkatla! Tengel had always had a weakness for Halkatla, the lonely witch. He would come to need her. She was enormously skilled in black magic, and, besides, she could attract men and lead them astray. Perhaps she could seduce that stupid Nataniel?

Tengel was looking forward to introducing Halkatla to the enemy ...

Paulus was another of his loyal allies. A young man of seventeen, but shrewd in cruelty.

After him came his favourite witches. The divinely beautiful Tobba, who had killed her lovers after making love to them. Vega, “the woman down by the lake”, and Hanna. With Hanna followed Grimar. A good pack, who could perform miracles.

Then there was yet another young man. Kolgrim. He was only fourteen, why did he have to die, he who had been so good! Oh, well, he had managed to kill the Chosen One, he who was meant to rescue the Ice People from Tan-ghil.

Tengel laughed once more in his semi-hibernation. Such wonderful memories!

Sölve was also a fine man. Unfortunately, he had lived among the superstitious southern Europeans. Not good!

Ulvar ... why did his very best allies have to die so young? Couldn’t they have been more careful? He had needed Ulvar for a longer period of time on earth. Oh, well ... he was certain to be of use as an evil spirit!

Then there was Erling Skogsrud. He was still alive. He was ever so slow on the uptake, he really was, but loyal and invincible. Well, almost.

Tengel ought to have had one more among the living now. But Tova had let him down, hadn’t she?

Well, never mind. He had vast resources that the Ice People knew nothing about. My word, wouldn’t they be surprised! His allies in the invisible world were frighteningly strong. Those poor souls could do nothing against them.

All the evil deities in the world that he had control over or would subjugate when the time was right. What did the Ice People think he had been doing in the long, inactive years in that damn mountain valley? Secretly in his house, he had summoned all the evil powers to his aid. Ariman was his slave. So were Kali, Baal and Molok, who were dead, but Iblis and Satan still existed – for as long as those stupid people believed in them. Besides, a long time ago, he had also secured control over Shama and the four other spirits in Taran-gai, while he still lived there. The five elements: Fire, Earth, Air, Water and Shama, or Stone . They were in his power. That would make things difficult for the Ice People!

These five could accomplish a lot. Inasmuch as they made up all the elements, they could stop an insurgency anywhere.

Last winter, he had had his spies out. Yes, spies. The Ice People didn’t know about them, couldn’t even guess who they were. For the past six months they had kept an eye on Linden Avenue and the other premises his descendants owned. The spies had been lying in wait – and reporting back. Useful tools, which he would make full use of when the time was right. He had many, many others as well. The best ones were the spirits from Taran-gai.

Tan-ghil gave a satisfied grunt, allowing himself to slip into hibernation once more.

Now play the flute! Play, I’m prepared.

The audience in Demon’s Mountain were ready for the last presentation in the great hall, which was like an amphitheatre. Tun-sij, the shaman woman from the Taran-gai and Nor, went up to the dais for the second time. She addressed them all and her voice inspired them with respect:

“Earlier tonight, the five gods and spirits of Taran-gai were mentioned. It has been said that they no longer exist, as the people who believed in them have died out. We also heard that there is uncertainty about which side they would take, whether Tan-ghil still has power over them. We don’t want Shama, the spirit of Stone, here because he can in no circumstances be trusted. Even during my lifetime, the gods were pretty fossilized, as our religion had turned increasingly to the spirits instead.

“These four other spirits ... if they still exist, would be extremely valuable to us, at least for us Taran-gai. Remember that they control fire, earth, air and water! What more can we ask?”

Everybody agreed on that.

“But can we trust them?” asked Heike.

“It would be better, wouldn’t it, for us to control them instead of Tan-ghil?”

“Yes, you’re right, Tun-sij.”

“Therefore I ask this honourable assembly for permission to summon them here and now. As shaman of Taran-gai I have the skill, yet in my earthly life I never dared to do anything so unseemly. Now, of course, the situation is different: the spirits of Taran-gai no longer have a people to worship them.”

Tula asked for a general vote for or against, and the response was a hundred per cent in favour of summoning the spirits. Nobody felt tired and everybody wanted to extend this remarkable rendezvous.

“Splendid,” said Tula. “Now I dare say you’re sick and tired of this hall, and besides, Tun-sij, it’s easier, isn’t it, to invoke the spirits out in the open?”

“Yes, I would imagine so. Besides, I would like to have assistance from my dear colleagues here, if that is permitted?”

“Take whoever you want to help you,” said Tula, smiling. “Now, everybody: we’ll go out on the veranda. We have one that suits the purpose well.”

But Tun-sij stopped her with a light touch on her arm. It was strange to see in what a dignified way this small nomadic woman moved, and how much respect Tula showed her.

“If you’ll all excuse me ...” she said. “I fear that the four spirits of the Taran-gai will hesitate to show themselves before so many unknown people and demons.”

“Naturally, that goes without saying. Do you want to be alone when you try to invoke them?”

“That isn’t desirable. The most important figures in our struggle against Tan-ghil ought to be present to confirm what we do and to learn what our spirits stand for.”

“You’re a very wise woman, Tun-sij. Who will you choose then?”

The shaman woman thought for a moment and said: “The five chosen ones.” (Gabriel gasped.) “And the seven greatest members of the Ice People. Marco and Nataniel are part of both groups so that makes ten in all. Plus one representative from each of the other groups. Is that possible?”

“Certainly. Thank you.”

“And yet another one ...” Tun-sij added merrily.

“Who?”

“You yourself, Tula. If you’re willing to join us.”

“I thought you would never ask,” Tula giggled. The two women, Tula and Tun-sij, seemed to get along very well indeed. “The rest of you needn’t feel disappointed, because you can join in with something else. Our hosts will take you to a grand hall where you can meet each other and talk as much as you like. The abandoned demons – who are no longer abandoned – are probably longing to soar around the mountains again. Please go outside and the horse people will show you the way.”

Tula took care of everybody.

Then she shouted: “Then we’ll all meet afterwards. At a splendid banquet!”

“Yes, about that,” said Tengel the Good. “What about our amazing hosts, the horse people? Will they be taking part in the struggle?”

“No,” answered Tula. “They’ll be spared that. They represent the animals, which should be kept out of Tengel the Evil’s reach.”

“Very sensible,” said Tengel the Good.

“You should know that any of you who might be in difficulty will always have a place of refuge. Ask Benedikte or one of the five chosen ones to get in touch with me. Then we’ll see to the rest.”

Everybody thought that was a comfort because they felt safe here.

They all left the hall in a slow flow of people. It was for the last time, though Gabriel didn’t know that.

To be on the safe side, he stayed close to the four others: Tova, Ellen, Nataniel and Marco. He saw his mother on the way out and she waved to him. He waved back. I’m doing fine, Mum. Don’t look so concerned!

Just ahead of him, Sol walked up to Tova and gave her a hug. “Do you know what I like best about you?”

“No,” replied Tova shyly.

“You resemble Hanna so much. You’re the spitting image of her!”

Tova sighed heavily. “I presume that I’m to accept that as a compliment ...?”

“You should,” said Sol, laughing, and walked on. Tova stood there, slightly bemused.

They parted in the great hall with the fountains and the walls that sparkled with precious stones. They were sorted like wheat and chaff. Gabriel saw a large crowd walk past but now he wasn’t frightened anymore. They were the abandoned demons, who were heading for the large gate, and they didn’t seem at all abandoned. They seemed to be having a good time together and were eager to fly up towards the mountains. Gabriel was happy with that because he felt that they had been treated a bit unfairly. But Tova was the one who knew them the best. She shouted to them to come back when their names were called.

That felt better. Nevertheless, he jumped up when one of them glided past him and he met a sideways glance so full of mischievous menace that the worst brat would have seemed like a saint by comparison. No, demons were no joke and the best thing would be to watch his step when they were in the vicinity.

Anyway ... once this dream night was over, Gabriel would have nothing more to do with them.

The black angels glided out into the hall, making it seem smaller when it was filled with their colossal black wings. Gabriel thought how beautiful they were. One of them broke loose from the others and joined Marco and his four friends. This angel was clearly to represent his group out on the veranda. Gabriel, who walked close behind the angel, studied his glistening wings and wanted to touch them, but didn’t dare.

Then the storm demons whirled past and one of them joined Gabriel’s group. My word, how the wind blew: the boy’s hair fluttered about.

An ice-cold shudder went through Gabriel. Right behind him, he suddenly had one of the demons of forfeiture. One of the toxic, beautiful ones, he didn’t know which. He knew that he could sense her proximity as an unbearable horror down his spine.

Even the abandoned demons had left a representative. An abominable, bluish demon, who gave Gabriel an ironic grin. Gabriel returned it with a trembling smile.

Tengel the Good, Sol and Rune were with them, and Targenor and Shira, who was truly beautiful, joined them.

Tula took care of them all and showed them the way.

I’m with them, Gabriel thought proudly. Mum and Grandpa Vetle and Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Mari and all my cousins were shown into a big hall where all the others were heading. But I was included in this exclusive group. Not even Ulvhedin, my protector, was allowed to come here.

It felt a bit lonely. He’d better stick close to Tova: she always seemed so self-assured, and Gabriel knew her well. Of course, he also knew his Uncle Nataniel, but he was mostly focused on Ellen. Tova and Gabriel needed to stick together, they were also about the same age.

It was nice to get outdoors. They now stood on a different veranda than before, almost like a dark half-cave in the mountain wall. This time, they had a view to the ragged mountain outside the entrance, and directly opposite they could see the stairs that led up to the portal.

The same, odd sunset reigned in the valley in front of them and on the blue-black summits, but now the light had a darker nuance, as if it might be evening in the landscape of the demons. They watched the abandoned demons float like the shadows of black birds up towards the summits.

The air was balmy, as on a summer night in the south. It wasn’t cold – on the contrary. Gabriel stretched in the comfortable warmth and sat down next to Tova on a bench by the mountain wall.

It wasn’t a big veranda and somehow its shadow made it nice and cosy. The stone floor had a mosaic pattern of light slabs, and marble benches were arranged round about. Only the mountain walls were dark.

The small gathering that now made up this nucleus was so versatile and bizarre that it might give you the hiccups. But Gabriel tried to behave as if it was an everyday event having a transformed root sitting to the right of you and a majestic black angel opposite, not to mention seeing a demon with deer antlers out of the corner of your left eye. Letting your gaze rest on Ellen was very refreshing: she looked wonderfully normal.

Tun-sij was now wearing her shaman’s robes, just as Vendel Grip must once have seen her. She had her shamanic objects with her. Tula explained that the horse people had helped procure her robe and help her into it as Irovar wasn’t there. Vendel had described how time-consuming it was to dress a shaman for a séance.

Look, a long line of Taran-gai dressed just like Tun-sij now entered. Gabriel thought that the horse people must have been busy for a while.

These were Taran-gai’s past shamans, the ones that the Ice People had introduced earlier in the night together with their friends and countrymen.

Nobody had any idea that there were so many shamans in the family. Sol said: “Now we know where Mar got his invoking talents from. My goodness. You Taran-gai: I wouldn’t mind talking with you afterwards. I would like to learn some of your many tricks.”

Then all the black-clad shamans beamed with joy.

Although it wasn’t easy to see their faces now. They were hidden behind strange masks, all similar. The ritual dress was something that was passed down, so copies must have been made. Everything was in black with tassels and soft colours here and there.

The mountain cave was calm. The shamans had arranged themselves in a circle in the middle of the floor, with crossed legs and drums in their laps. Gabriel could see the magical symbols on the drum heads. The drums were so old that the symbols were blurred. But everybody took part in the ritual wholeheartedly. The audience could see how much it meant to the kind creatures to be allowed to sit there all together, so many generations united in wizardry.

The rhythmic beats of the drums were accompanied by a piercing, monotonous song with magical words. At first, Gabriel thought that it was all very picturesque but as time went by and the monotonous song went on, he was affected by the suggestive hypnosis of it all. He began to feel drowsy; he couldn’t collect his thoughts and now and then he dozed off.

Finally, the rhythmic sound filled the entire universe. It roared in his head, the floor shook, his eyes closed and strange sounds entered his consciousness. He felt that he was transported to a pagan time in the past in a wilderness far, far away. The landscape was different. Then it shrank until a yurt with walls of reindeer skin encircled him and a sour smell of smoke from a fire reached his nose.

The walls seemed to get ever closer and he had less and less space, but the thumps and the dark images glided past his eyes. Totem poles, burial mounds, statues, talismans ... In the columns of smoke he saw swaying creatures appear and disappear, grotesque faces with exaggerated Mongolian features; the smoke turned to fire, and in it he saw something that had to be idols. He could also detect reindeer antlers. Without understanding the meaning of any of it, he heard screams and shouts and moaning so that it roared in his ears ... and then he started and woke up.

The drums had ceased.

He was back on the mountain veranda in the Demon’s Mountain. The others had clearly experienced the same as him because they all looked more or less bleary-eyed. The shamans had let their arms fall; they sat exhausted with closed eyes and their chins resting on their chests.

“They have the answer,” Tun-sij muttered, and her voice sounded very tired.

Who had the answer? Gabriel wondered. He had forgotten why they were on the veranda. Then he heard Sol’s whispered shout: “Look! Is it them?”

They all stood up and looked out over the mountain landscape down below. Far away on the plain in the valley, they saw four dots moving quickly and becoming bigger and clearer.

Tun-sij said matter-of-factly: “It’s them.”

She turned to the audience. “I ask you please to show them the greatest respect. Shira and Mar know their power.”

Mar, who was present in his capacity as a necromancer from Taran-gai, nodded. “Remember that they represent Earth!”

“They succeeded very well,” Tun-sij said with a voice that was supposed to be expressionless, but she was unable to conceal how proud she was. “Thank you, all my fellow shamans. Just imagine what we can do!”

It was as if she couldn’t believe her immense success.

Gabriel looked down towards the elementals and trembled.